Chapter 22

Quinn

We were stuck in the club for several hours, and I was ready to claw my way out of my own skin with irritation. Everywhere I looked, there was Caroline. Like a poltergeist haunting my every step. “Can we go home yet?” I asked and sipped my third glass of wine.

I was a little tipsy, and unlike Troy, I couldn't relax. I glared at the blonde as she walked past our table for the hundredth time. I wanted to pluck her eyes out of her skull and serve it up to her for breakfast.

"No," Troy said, his deep voice pulling my attention back to him.

He dipped his finger into the whiskey, and listlessly dragged his wet digit along the rim of the glass. The expensive crystal hummed a high-pitched tune that matched my mood. “Lawson’s crew surrounded the club.”

“Can’t your men just pick us up in the parking structure under the club?”

“No,” Troy answered and glanced around at the people that kept staring at us. “There are bound to be some of Lawson's men in the parking lot.”

“So the rule of